ame up here to
escape the excitement and melodrama of the world."

He looked at his watch. It was past three o'clock. Entering the inner
room, for the second time that night he sought to sleep. "They can't
play without me--I've got the ball," he repeated with a smile. And, safe
in this thought, he closed his eyes, and slumbered.

CHAPTER X

THE COLD GRAY DAWN

The gayest knight must have a morning after. Mr. Magee awakened to his
to find suite seven wrapped again in its favorite polar atmosphere.
Filling the door leading to the outer room, he beheld the cause of his
awakening--the mayor of Reuton. Mr. Cargan regarded him with the cold
steely eye of a Disraeli in action, but when he spoke he opened the jaws
of a cocktail mixer.

"Well, young fellow," he remarked, "it seems to me it was time you got
up and faced the responsibilities of the day. First of which, I may
mention, is a little talk with me."

He stepped into the room, and through the doorway he vacated Mr. Max
came slinking. The unlovely face of the foe of suspicion was badly
bruised, and he looked upon the world with no cheerful eye. Pushing
aside one of the frail bedroom chairs as untrustworthy, the mayor sat
down on the edge of Mr. Magee's bed. It creaked in protest.

"You used us pretty rough last night in the snow," Cargan went on.
"That's why I ain't disposed to go in for kid gloves and diplomacy this
morning. It's my experience that when you're dealing with a man who's
got the good old Irish name of Magee, it's best to hit first and debate
afterward."

"I--I used you roughly, Mr. Cargan?" said Magee.

"No debate, mind you," protested the mayor. "Lou and me are making this
morning call to inquire after a little package that went astray
somewhere last night. There's two courses open to you--hand over the
package or let us take it. I'll give you a tip--the first is the best.
If we have to take it, we might get real rough in our actions."

Mr. Max slipped closer to the bed, an ugly look on his face. The mayor
glared fixedly into Magee's eyes. The knight who fought for fair ladies
in the snow lay on his pillow and considered briefly.

"I get what I go after," remarked Cargan emphatically.

"Yes," sparred Magee, "but the real point is keeping what you get after
you've gone after it. You didn't make much of an impression on me last
night in that line, Mr. Cargan."

"I never cared much for humor," replied the mayor, "especially at this
ea